


Of all the flowers

by transxander



Category: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: M/M, im Impatient i just want fluff, its a flowershop au because i am self-indulgent, may or may not be slowburn but probably not lol, wil is a trans girl now i make the rules
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 02:24:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17255870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transxander/pseuds/transxander
Summary: Raven was expecting another quiet day at the shop. What he was most definitely not expecting was an incredibly memorable customer and an imminent gay crisis as a result.





	Of all the flowers

**Author's Note:**

> this is the fic i wrote for a secret santa!!! itll be updated slowly probably but im still have ideas so. Eventually

Raven is not doing much. Business is slow, this early in the morning. He says good-bye to Priscilla as she runs out the door, probably thinking she is late (even though she never is). Wil was on time for once, and he can hear her humming while she’s looking for the flowers she needs to make her arrangements, a cup of tea in her hands. She always says it warms her body as well as her heart. He just sticks to coffee. The “bitter juice of darkness and death”, as Wil puts it, suits him just fine. He plays with the spoon left in the empty cup in front of him. Maybe he should get another one.

Before he can act on his caffeine cravings, however, the door opens. The bell that took him 2 hours to drill into the wall, which is an embarrassing story that he will definitely not go into the details of, rings clearly. At least the thing still works. Maybe it’s Priscilla, come to retrieve something she’s forgotten, although the last time that happened, she was standing in the shop with a panic attack so bad she started hyperventilating, so it’d better not be her. He doesn’t really want to deal with any customers this early, but he supposes it cannot be helped.

“Good morning, sir!” he hears Wil say, in that tone so friendly that he can’t imagine it’s anywhere near natural, though she makes it seem easy (or maybe he’s just exceptionally bad at making small talk like that).

The answer she gets is too soft to make out the words. He imagines it’s a polite greeting back. Their voice sounds pleasant, as far as he can hear. Hopefully they aren’t an impatient and ungrateful customer, because he really doesn’t want to have to handle one of those right now.

“Can I help you with anything, or are you just looking around?” she cheerily continues. He has no idea how she manages to sound so happy, well, ever, and it’s one of the qualities he admires her for. He’s about as friendly as a rock.

Again, he cannot hear the reply the customer gives, but he can hear hers. “Of course, sir! If you have any questions, you can ask me, or my colleague at the counter in the back!”

Apparently they are just here to look around. Perfect, that means they probably won’t buy anything and will leave without talking to him. He wonders if he can go get that cup of coffee now.

Yet fate, the cruel mistress, seems to have different plans in store for him.

The customer that walks into his line of sight is not just your average customer. It is not the old man who slowly and carefully picks out a beautiful bouquet, or the impatient businessman who has not yet waited long enough to become truly rude. No, this man is… handsome. Not to say he hasn’t met handsome men before, far from it, but he wouldn’t say he has ever met someone quite as handsome as this man. His eyes are bright and blue, his face is kind, and his hair is so long yet looks so soft. He’ll bet it’s perfectly suited for running your fingers through it, while cuddling on the couch after a long day of work.

It’s not just his (outlandishly) good looks that caught Raven off guard, though. The man seems to radiate a kindness, a gentleness, as if he could make the world a bit better by simply walking into the room. He’s almost expecting the flowers on the shelves to turn their heads towards him, just like they would to the sun, to bask in his warmth.

Shit. He’s staring. The man seems terrified. He wants to slap himself in the face, but he doubts that will do anything to reassure him that he is not, in fact, a homicidal maniac, despite what the almost permanent scowl on his face seems to be trying to convey. So he turns to intently studying his empty cup in an attempt to appear aloof and relaxed, rather than freaked out about the ridiculously handsome stranger who just casually walked into his life.

The man almost turns around, but seems to change his mind and makes his way towards him instead. With every step he takes, Raven freaks out a little more, though his face shows a blank and far-from-nervous expression (he hopes). He straightens his back. Maybe he can make a slightly better impression by not being a total douchebag to him now.

“Excuse me,” (he can hear a tremble in his voice, wow, did he fuck up), “I am here to pick up my order.”

He looks even better up close. Focus, man, focus. “Order?” Oh, great. Real smooth, Raymond. Now he will for sure think you are anything but a socially inept idiot who can only parrot other people’s words back at them. And you weren’t even using your customer service grunt.

“Yes...” The tremble is still there. He really scared him, huh? Well, not that he can blame him. “It should be under the name of Lucius Elimine.”

“I’ll get it!” Wil says as she winks at Raven. He very briefly considers strangling her, but that will definitely not help the horrible impression the man, presumably named Lucius (a name that really fits him, in Raven’s most humble opinion, and also a name that is perfectly suited for adorable nicknames, though he’s getting off track), already has of him.

The silence that dawns upon them, just slightly disturbed by Wil’s rummaging in the back, is incredibly awkward in the way that only those between first-time lovers can be, he thinks. Raven realizes he should attempt to make idle chatter with the man, but that has never been his strong suit. Wil has always been much better at it than he; she is cute, and friendly, not grumpy and intimidating. Nonetheless, this silence must be much more awkward than whatever words might come spilling out of his mouth, so he ought to at least give it a good old-fashioned try.

“You come here often?”

Alright. It’s all over. He’s going to lock himself inside his room and never speak to anyone again. He’ll live off of instant noodle packets that Priscilla may shove into his room through the crack underneath the door. Excessive sodium intake will kill him, but at least he won’t ever have to live through a social situation quite as embarrassing as this one.

To his incredible shock and surprise, the man laughs softly. “I have never been here before, but it is close to my apartment, so I thought I would come by sometime, and, even though I had already placed an order, I wanted to have a look around.”

His voice is so pleasant, especially now that it’s lost its nervous edge (he must’ve realized he was too dumb to be intimidating). It’s like the soft lapping of the waves, the gentle whisper of the trees. It’s how he imagines spring sunshine and blooming flowers would sound.

“Ah.” He should get an award for ‘Smoothest talker in the universe’. Really, Raymond? A nondescript, somewhat affirmative grunt was all you could come up with? Truly, Lucius must be impressed. It’s a miracle he has not thrown himself at your feet.

And yet, Lucius does not seem to mind his complete lack of anything even slightly resembling social skill, for he politely continues talking. “I decided I might as well take the opportunity to give my best friend some flowers.”

He is not getting them for a romantic partner, though that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one. And ‘best friend’ might be code for ‘my crush of ten years’. Really the only thing this statement tells him is that he has at least one friend, but that doesn’t surprise him based off his kind face and gentle voice.

“I’m sure they’ll like them. Wil makes beautiful arrangements.” He means it. She is far more talented than he is. Must be her artistic spirit, and her deft fingers. Compared to hers, his hands are more like giant shovels.

Wait. Did he just mutter two entire sentences that could be considered normal casual talk to this unbelievably handsome man? His calming presence must be having its effect on him. He can’t remember the last time he so effortlessly made small talk with any customer, let alone one who distracted him as much as this one did (though, admittedly, he’s never had a customer who had this effect on him before, so he supposes there are hardly any comparisons he can make).

“I am glad, then.” Lucius smiles, and he all but melts. It should definitely be illegal to be this handsome. He wonders how many times he has told himself this in the past minute or two, because it definitely feels like too many to count, and that is not because he can’t count very far.

He honestly doesn’t know what to say next. The silence that falls over them seems incredibly awkward to him, and his half-hearted attempts at appearing aloof and pensive are probably not helping. Shouldn’t Wil be back by now? If she doesn’t return soon, he’ll die. Please tell him she is not taking her sweet time on purpose, because he would have to kill her before dying himself. How do people hold normal conversations with natural-feeling silences? And especially with someone as attractive as Lucius? He’s not too sensitive, right? Or is he, and has he been ruining perfectly good lulls of the conversation by blabbering right through them?

Luckily, right before he feels about ready to unleash a caveman scream in his agony, Wil shows up with a cheery smile on her face and an orange-and-yellow bouquet in her hands. “Here you go, sir,” she says easily as she places it on the counter.

Lucius inspects it quickly, and smiles as well. “It looks beautiful. You must have outdone yourself, miss.”

Wil bows her head slightly as he praises her, but her eyes shoot over to Raven. She’s trying to tell him something. In his head, he is going through the possible things she usually tells him with her eyes. Has he been stupid? Well, presumably, yes, but there’s nothing he can do about that now. Has he fucked something up? Again, presumably, but this is also irreparable. Does he need to do something? Ah. Right. Check-out.

“That will be 30 dollars, then.” He almost feels bad for asking money of him, but he has to at least pretend he is running a business and not a gift exchange, though sometimes he would love nothing more. Someone needs to pay off Priscilla’s student loans, and their parents aren’t very well able to do so, with them being dead and all. Aside from those costs, there’s also the electricity, water, and gas bills, and groceries, plus some miscellaneous expenses, and of course Wil’s salary. God, he’s making himself depressed just thinking about it. On to more cheerful subjects, such as Lucius’ hands as he is counting out dollar bills. He knows he’s staring, yet he can’t get himself to look away. They’re pretty, his hands, in the same way that Wil’s hands are pretty when she is arranging her next piece. Graceful, he thinks, gentle, but full of purpose.

Is it… creepy to stare at someone’s hands for this long? Because it feels like it’s creepy. They’re really pretty hands, though. However, Lucius’ voice forces him to tear his gaze off them.

“Here you go,” he says politely as he hands him the money that he so neatly counted out. It is exactly the amount he asked for, and he wasn’t expecting anything else. From some people, he might have, especially if they had counted it out so clearly, but from Lucius, he can’t help but expect honesty. It’s stupid, of course, though he will still refuse to even think of the possibility that he might be lying. He can almost feel Wil rolling her eyes.

“Thank you...” he pauses for a moment. “Very much,” he adds, hoping that this little addition will express the humble gratitude he feels for simply having Lucius walk into his store more accurately. It’s one of those moments that make you feel like you can die happy.

“No, thank you-” Lucius appears to hold himself back while he is looking for the word- “for the bouquet, of course.” He gingerly takes it from the counter, and starts to walk away. It appears he has a little spring to his step, that Raven didn’t notice before but finds incredibly cute nonetheless. Just before he would turn right, past the big shelf next to him, and thereby disappearing from his line of sight, he turns around and smiles. “Have a nice day.”

Raven is so busy melting he forgets to greet back, and only the soft tingle of the door bell shakes him out of it. As the door falls back into place, the shop seems to go back to the way it was before Lucius came in: nothing out of the ordinary. It’s quite amazing that he was able to transform the way he perceives this space he knows so well by simply walking in. He doesn’t really know what to do with himself, now that he’s gone. The magic is still wearing off.

Wil sits herself down on the counter, like she so often does when she wants to talk to him. The look on her face, combined with the grin she is confidently wearing, tells him he was anything but subtle about his crisis. “Looks like somebody caught some feelings.”

He rests his head against the wood (well, more like almost slams his head onto the counter), and sighs. “He was so handsome, and cute, Wil, like, God, who wouldn’t have?” he mumbles. His mutterings dissolve into indistinguishable nonsense, in which the only things that Wil can make out are the word ‘gay’ and general screaming.

She jumps off the counter and pats his arm. “He was checking these out,” she says, in a tone so nonchalant she might have as well been discussing the weather. Raven turns his head to the side, and looks at her with one eye while he is processing what she just said. Suddenly, it hits him, and he shoots up.

“He was what?!”

“He was checking out your guns, Raymond.” She laughs when he looks at his arms in shock. It is true that his habit of wearing tank tops 24/7 did nothing to hide them, but there is no way Lucius was actually looking at them, right? Her judgement must be off (though it’d be the first time). She must have imagined it, it’s possible. Maybe his gay crisis threw her off. Maybe she thought he was handsome, too.

“Mark my words,” she says as she disappears between the shelves again, “that man will be back.”

 

How right she would be.


End file.
